For a long time, I lived about 500 feet from a very decent Thai restaurant that was open at wildly illogical hours. Basically when everything else closed, on went their little neon window sign as though they somehow sensed they were my only option. This place always asked how spicy I wanted every single dish. So because I’m an idiot and was frequently hungover, I’d ask for whatever I ordered progressively spicer over time until one day, because again - I’m an idiot - I just said, "Make it as spicy as you can make it." To this day it was still probably the spiciest thing I’ve ever put near my face. Punishment for my hubris was swift and long-lasting. I have utterly no idea what kind of wizards they had in the kitchen. I’m amazed it didn’t melt right through my tooth enamel. Aren’t these stories great? You get to know more about how mundane my life is (joy!) and you get to add to the list of things you don’t want in your mouth (squee!) Well, it’s 9:13 AM and that’s tuna time.